


A Peaceful Night's Sleep

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:49:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's ruined his bedsheets (yet again). John reluctantly allows him a place to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Peaceful Night's Sleep

A peaceful night’s sleep was a rare occasion at 221b for one John Watson. Between the cases, the antics of the world’s most annoying consulting detective, and the amount of time he spent at his computer, either doing research or blogging, sleep often eluded him until the morning light, no matter how hard he tried to fall asleep beneath the warm covers.

Tonight, however, was a welcome exception. At least, it was, until one Sherlock Holmes decided to come traipsing into the room, gesturing his arms about and complaining about how he’d had some sort of chemical accident occur in his room, and that he had no place to sleep. He did all this while walking over to the unoccupied side of John’s bed and flopping down, causing John to bolt upright, head spinning from the blood descending from his head.

"I will require a place to-"

"Sherlock."

Sherlock paused in his sentence, and looked at his flatmate. “What?”

"Shut up." John groaned, picking up his pillow and flopping back down into his usual sleeping position, though this time with the pillow clamped firmly around his ears. Somehow, suffocation seemed better than putting up with Sherlock’s nonsense. Especially at four in the damn morning.

A poke at his shoulder made things a fair bit worse, along with several ‘Johns’ in a row. John lifted his head and removed the pillow, obviously annoyed. “What?”

"I require a place to sleep."

"Sleep on the sofa."

"Unlike some, I am not at the advantage of a short stature, and I would most certainly not be comfortable."

"Sleep on the floor for all I care, Sherlock. It’s four in the bloody morning," John’s eyes were heavy by this point; he’d woken up in the middle of a sleep cycle, he realized.

"The floor is not the ideal place due to its temperature and-"

"Sherlock," John interrupted. "I am going to say this very, very slowly. It’s four in the morning, I have to be up very early tomorrow, and you are blathering on about not having a place to sleep when you are in a bed. Would you please, just, just for me, be quiet.”

Sherlock raised his left eyebrow a fraction of an inch. “You are suggesting I sleep here?”

"No, I’m suggesting you sleep on the moon." John threw up his hands. When met with a blank stare, he sighed, reaching up to rub his temple with one hand. "Sarcasm," he pointed out before continuing. "Look. Sleep here if you like. Sleep in your chemical-saturated bed if you like. Sleep on the floor if you like. None of this matters to me. What does matter is that you do it quietly, because I am going to sleep. Goodnight.”

Without waiting for a response, John lay back down on the bed, covering his head with his pillow. Surprisingly, Sherlock was quiet, and John felt a shift that he knew meant Sherlock was settling in beside him. 

Neither of them ever mentioned again why or how they wound up tangled up in the bedsheets, Sherlock’s head on his chest, drool staining his nightshirt.


End file.
